What the library lacks in space, it makes up for in books. Towers after towers of books balance precariously on wooden tables. The shelves are practically overflowing. There doesn’t seem tobe a rhyme or reason for any of the book’s positioning. Medicine is sitting next to fiction. War theories reside beside romance. It’s a maze of disorder, and it’s fucking perfection.
Teddie’s asleep at a large table in the center, one arm indolently sprawled across his forehead. One book rests open in front of him, while another sits on his chest, the papers crinkled.
For a moment, I study him, completely unencumbered, my brain cataloging every minuscule change from when I last saw him.
Is he paler?
Are there shadows under his eyes?
Does his skin have a green tint?
Is he?—
“I can feel you staring at me like a creeper.” Teddie’s voice is a low, raspy drawl.
Shame floods my cheeks, though indignation quickly nips at its heels. “I wasn’t staring at you like a creeper. I may have been staring, and it may have been moderately creepy, but I wouldn’t say I’m a creeper.”
I huff and fold my arms over my chest.
One of his eyes opens, sparkling with mirth. “Such a creeper.”
“Takes one to know one,” I say, like the mature princess I am.
Both his eyes open now, and his lips stretch into a mischievous grin.
“Are you going to say that stupid nursery rhyme now? How did it go again?Twinkle, twinkle, little star. What you say is what you are.”
“I wonder how the citizens of Hypso would feel if they discovered their crown prince and future king was such a dork,” I jest, moving to claim the chair opposite him at the table.
I have to physically move a few dusty tomes in the process.
A strange shadow flits across my brother’s face. “I wonder how the citizens of Hypso would feel if they discovered their crown prince and future king was dying.”
Pain lances my heart, an acute sort of agony that makes me suck in a breath, heat scorching my airways.
“Teddie,” I admonish, “don’t say shit like that.”
A weak, humorless chuckle passes through his chapped lips. “Sorry. I’ve just been feeling…”
He shakily runs a hand through his blond hair, causing the strands to stick in every direction.
“Overwhelmed? Smothered? Suffocated?” I supply.
Being in the castle, around our mother, will evoke those sensations in just about anyone.
He forces a smile. “She had me attend a meeting last night with some of our top generals. They looked at me like I should’ve already known all of this information. Then I realized…if I had attended Eros like Mom intended, I would’ve.” He gestures vaguely toward the books in front of him. “So now I’m stuck playing catch-up.”
I swallow around the strange knot that has materialized in my throat. Strange…because it feels as if it’s stockpiled with razor blades, and every one is slicing at my esophagus with each passing breath.
“What if you weren’t playing catch-up?” I try to keep my tone nonchalant, even as my heart batters against my breastbone like a battering ram. “What if you were with the troops, learning directly from them? Working with the top generals?”
A derisive snort escapes my brother. “I could never do that. I can barely stand long enough to grab a book from the shelf.”
He instantly flinches at his confession, as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud, and fear whirls through me.
God, he’s getting bad. Really, really bad.
How long does he have?
